


baby time <3

by polkaprintpjs



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:54:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28975425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polkaprintpjs/pseuds/polkaprintpjs
Summary: Looks like you’ve got a kid, congrats.You scoop her up, squint at her. She chills out as soon as you make optic contact, makes little whirring coos.Ugh, no, she’s cute. “Cute little eating machine, ain’tcha?”She waves her arms at you and trills.
Relationships: Whirl & Sparky
Kudos: 13





	baby time <3

**Author's Note:**

> more self indulgent than usual so wip title it is. also heads up megs technically dies offscreen lmao

You should’ve flushed it out the airlock. 

The sparkling’s stubby claws flex against the plating of your stomach as it sleeps. You’re pretty sure it’s asleep, anyway. The red glow of its optic faded awhile ago and now you’re laying in the dark. 

You probably definitely shouldn’t’ve kept it after the whole ‘scraplet’ reveal. 

It keeps making tiny noises, soft little whirs. You don’t shift from where you’re curled around it. 

You still could. Flush it, that is. A few floors up and a hallway over is nothing. 

It’s warm against your front, warm enough for your withered, vile little spark to twitch. 

You should’ve let the medics destroy it after they’d revived you. 

It doesn’t deserve to die for wanting to live. It _really_ doesn’t deserve the void of space or the incenerator for being smart enough to trick your dumb aft into saving it and offering a tasty little snack as a bonus. 

Vicious little thing. It flexes its claws again, wriggles a bit. 

If viciousness was a death sentence- well, you’d be shit outta luck. 

Sure, it’s a colony of eating machines that’ll be purged from the ship soon as any sane mech hears of them, but nobody ever did call you sane. 

You could’ve flushed it if you’d wanted to be hailed for good sense. 

She tried to eat you, and would’ve moved on to the rest of the crew- on to Cyclonus, you think- and that’s just no good. 

Well, you know what they say- shoulda woulda coulda.

Looks like you’ve got a kid, congrats. 

She clicks a couple times, tries to get her oversized head closer to your spark. Mostly ends up just mashing her optic into your plating, but hey. A for effort, kiddo. 

She starts whining in her sleep, thrashing around a bit. 

You scoop her up, squint at her. She chills out as soon as you make optic contact, makes little whirring coos. 

Ugh, no, she’s _cute_. “Cute little eating machine, ain’tcha?” 

She waves her arms at you and trills. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, sitting up and cradling her carefully- mostly she ends up curled around your side so she can stare at your face from around your cockpit- and she makes more baby sounds. 

Fuck, she’s cute enough to make what’s left of your spark hurt. 

“Gotta get you some food, quick,” you think out loud as she bats at your plating. “Scrap metal outta the recycle, maybe?” 

Hmm, hmm. 

“Could feed Megsy to ya, huh? How’s that sound?” Kiddo seems to take that just fine, so ex-Warlord for breakfast it is.

You bounce her a little, just enough to make her squeak. 

“Gotta pick a name. Somehow Kiddo just don’t fit right.” 

“Awa ih am. Ihho on ih igh.” 

You blink. That was. Not words, but a pretty decent imitation of the sound of words. Could be the pitch of your one-note vocalizer throwin’ her off; she’s smart enough to pick it up first try, you’re pretty sure. You repeat yourself, just to give her a fighting chance. 

“Got to pick a name. Somehow Kiddo just doesn’t fit right.” 

She blinks that big red optic up at you. “Got a name. Kiddo don’t fit right.”

Well. can’t argue with that, can you. She understands you, that’s certain, and she’s smart enough to reuse word’s she’s heard to get her point across. Smarter mechs’n you’d have better luck understanding just what that means; you settle for being proud, personally. Although-

“So you’ve got a name. It ain’t Kiddo… don’t suppose you wanna give me a clue or two?”

She flaps her arms at you and burbles. 

“..... Do you want me to guess? Just start listin’ shit until you hear something you like?” That gets you a _lot_ of blinking and clicking and arm waving. 

* * *

Sparky seems pretty damn happy to snooze in your cockpit while you go sniffing out her breakfast. 

You’d meant it about feeding Megatron to her. You’re no saint, alright, but some monsters don’t deserve better than being consumed by a swarm of scraplets and no amount of playing at repentance changed that. You wouldn’t mind being her next meal yourself, except that she’s just a little thing and it doesn’t matter how much you _know_ she’s an eating and killing machine, you look at her little claws and your spark shrieks _sparkling young protect._ She don’t deserve what would happen after you’re gone and she’s left alone. 

Now, back to breakfast. 

It ain’t hard- after the last time the cameras were fucked with so nobody in command noticed hall 4-CF2 had been _converted_ into a wrestling hall, the ship had to be patrolled once a cycle by the CO going offshift, and ol’ Megsy’s turn was this orn. Stormy lets you know once he passes the workshop and you cut him off at the oil reservoir. 

One rusty ex-warlord later, Sparky’s back asleep and snoring pretty damn loud while she’s at it. 

Bein’ fair, eating mechs as full of themselves as him is hard work in your opinion; she can take as many naps as she pleases. She didn’t quite finish her breakfast, but the legs and arm fit pretty well into that storage closet- convenient, that- so she’s set up with food for the next, eh, day. 

You figure it’s probably good to get her socialized, especially seeing as she tends to eat first, say hello later. Cyclonus’s hab it is. 

He doesn’t answer the door but he does send the codes to unlock it after you make a racket, so you go ahead and let yourself in. 

“Whirl, what could possibly be important enough that- what is that.” 

Well, there’s no need for that kinda tone, she’s a _who_ not a _what_. 

Cyc ain’t impressed. “That is an abomination. Where did you _find_ it?” 

Okay, rude. “This is Sparky. Be nice, will you? _She’s_ being polite, dunno why a kid can manage it and you can’t.” 

Cyc stays where he is, sitting on his boo’s berth. His _dead_ boo’s berth, moping much? 

“Whirl. That is beyond inappropriate. You and your… _child_ need to leave.”

Okay, no. “Nope. I’m getting her used to being around people without eating them.” 

He takes that in stride. “All the more reason for you to take her somewhere else.”   
Oh, mech. We’re friends now, you said so yourself. Congrats. “Nah, wouldn’t wanna overwhelm her. Plus I’d probably let her get away with eating Red Alert and _that’s_ just setting a bad example. _Sooo_ , looks like you’re stuck with us. Er, hope you don’t like that desk, she might get peckish later.”

**Author's Note:**

> on tumblr @ megatronismegagone


End file.
